


Take Care

by Flavortext



Series: GO songfics [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, Other, VS how things go in the books but it leads to a good conversation in this so /shrug, Yes I’m still kinda pissy about how Crowley just gives up in the show when he thinks Az is dead, chapter 2 is p much pwp you can skip to it if thats what you're about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flavortext/pseuds/Flavortext
Summary: “I love you.” He says. After no many years of not saying it, the words bubble forward, threatening to spill over in a tidal wave. Aziraphale leans back in, kisses Crowley slow until he feels light headed, like the angel is drinking the words from his lips. When he pulls back Crowley chases him, getting in one last peck before Aziraphale shifts under him.





	1. Lovers In a Dangerous Time

What Crowley says, when he stares at Aziraphale (himself, the angel reminds himself, that is what Crowley is  _ really  _ looking at) after they switch faces, bounces through Aziraphale's head almost distractingly the entire time he is in Hell. 

“Treat it well.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”  Aziraphale had responded, genuine. Something - hard to read, a mix of love and disappointment at a joke not caught, maybe, flashes across Crowley- his own- face.  

“To the park?” 

“Right.” Aziraphale straightens the collar of Crowley’s shirt and scratches at the itchy suit under it, before following Crowley out the door. 

Getting manhandled to Hell is terrifying, but surprisingly he finds quite a bit of fun in playing the role of Crowley. He’s plenty proud of himself as he finds his way ( _ saunters) _ back up to Earth. He finds a nice bench in the park and waits. 

It’s not long until he spots himself, walking towards him with a smile that he thinks portrays just a bit of the demon underneath, but also means, as his brain sings, as he rushes to his feet, meets his old friend halfway down the path and sweeps him into an embrace,  _ they’ve won. _

“Angel, you’re squeezing me.” Crowley grunts, even as his arms come up a little awkwardly to wrap around Aziraphale’s waist (his own body, which is a little weird). Aziraphale gives a tighter squeeze for good measure before letting Crowley go, though he doesn’t move very far away. 

“Come sit, tell me how it went,” Aziraphale says, snagging Crowley’s hand and dragging him back to the bench. Crowley blinks at him and follows. 

 

Back in their own bodies, they get lunch and then return to the bookshop. Aziraphale goes about closing the curtains while Crowley pours them both glasses of wine. 

“I know the electric light bothers you a bit, but I’m rather...anxious about lighting so many candles again,” Aziraphale says as he returns to the back room. Crowley waves his hand, eyeing the fixture and the slight flickering with a frown. 

“Understandable. Wasn’t a pretty sight.” He takes his glass and holds it up. “To the rest of eternity.” He says. Aziraphale swirls his glass and hums. 

“To our side.” He echos, and drinks. He misses the slight flicker on Crowley’s face, the faltering as he says “our”. The hope. By the time the angel has his eyes open again, Crowley is smiling and swallowing his drink. Aziraphale sits opposite him, putting his feet up on the little tartan stool he has for the purpose. Crowley kicks off his shoes and draws his feet up next to him on the couch. 

They drink in silence for a while, Aziraphale only commenting to point out the new books in his collection and speculate about what other things Adam might have changed. 

“No more bullet holes in my car,” Crowley says, suddenly despondent. Aziraphale chuckles but catches himself. 

“Can’t you just, get them again?” He asks. Crowley shakes his head, glasses falling a little bit askew. 

“Limited run.” 

“Well, you can always just magic them back, can’t you?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley gets a sly smile on his face. 

“Yes, but  _ I’d always know the difference. _ ” He echos Aziraphale’s words from what feels like so many days ago. Aziraphale lets himself laugh, this time. 

“Alright, say, if some collector somewhere was suddenly persuaded to sell off just one set, and a very kind man had a dear friend in need of it?” Part of Aziraphale warns him, this may be a stretch on the side of “frivolous miracles”. The other part of him reminds himself that no one’s watching, right now. He wouldn’t care, either way, for the smile that slides across Crowley’s face. 

“Suppose I couldn’t say no to a gift. If it was from a good friend.” Crowley finishes his glass and sighs. 

“Dear,” Aziraphale says after the silence stretches out, at the same time Crowley says,

“Angel,” Crowley frowns. “You first.” 

“I was just- I was going to ask, erm, do you plan to keep on with your job, so to speak?” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, really, but Aziraphale isn’t feeling quite brave enough, yet. Crowley settles back on the couch and shrugs. 

“I’ll keep up appearances, but there isn’t much of a point.” He says. “You?” 

“Oh, well, you know, if the chance to miracle presents itself, or an evil pops up that needs a good thwart, I suppose I could.” Aziraphale refills both their glasses. Crowley immediately takes his, sipping it noticeably quickly. Aziraphale cocks an eyebrow and waits for the demon to finish. 

“What were you going to say?” He asks when Crowley is done. Crowley looks at him- or maybe just shy of eye contact, it's hard to tell, with the glasses, and sighs again. 

“Just that, I really did think I’d lost you,” Crowley says. Aziraphale’s breath catches. 

“Oh,” He reaches across the gap between their seats, a little bit of a stretch but manageable, and takes Crowley’s hand. “I thought you’d gone off to the stars, and I didn’t mean to leave regardless. But I’m sorry to put you through such a fright.” Aziraphale rubs his thumb over the soft skin of Crowley’s knuckles. The man-shaped being across from him doesn’t seem to be breathing, which isn’t an immediate cause for concern but makes it rather hard for Aziraphale to judge his mood, as he also is looking pointedly away from him. 

“‘S okay. Just, don’t go doing that again.” Crowley reaches with his free hand and refills his glass, a bit difficult with one hand, but he doesn’t move under Aziraphale’s fingers. 

“I’ll do my best,” Aziraphale says. He goes to move away, but Crowley’s hand flips over lighting fast and wraps around his. Suddenly there’s no question of the snake-like eye’s being fixed on him. 

“I don’t want to be on this world without you,” Crowley says, deadly serious. Aziraphale flashes back to another time Crowley had used that tone, offering him a ride after accepting a thermos of holy water. He thinks of what he had said, then.  _ You go too fast for me. _

Except it wasn’t really too fast, was it? He knew he loved Crowley by then, ever since Germany. And he knew Crowley loved him, since... before. Maybe the Beginning, though he feels like that might be flattering himself too much. Their pace, truly, had been anything but fast. Mostly Aziraphale had been scared, then. And now. 

But, the world had very near well ended, yesterday. And they’d, well, they’d had a  _ part _ in saving it, side by side. And, Aziraphale tells himself, he really can’t kid himself around and say that he doesn’t mirror Crowley’s sentiment with every fiber of his being. He came back to earth  _ without a body _ just to find him again. He faced down the demons of Hell just to get them these moments of peace together. Aziraphale twists his hand around so it's properly holding Crowley’s. 

“I feel quite the same, Crowley.” He says. Crowley makes a little noise, something caught in the back of his throat that might be his name. Aziraphale sets his wine glass down and slowly pulls the undrunken one out of Crowley’s other hand, and takes that one too. “Dear, I haven’t said anything, all these years, but it hasn’t damned me yet, and after all this, I’m not sure I’d care if it did, but I love you. You must see that.” Aziraphale tries to meet Crowley’s eyes, hidden through his shades. 

“I-” The demon manages to get out. His hands tighten in Aziraphale’s grip. “I-  _ angel.” _ Crowley almost whines, fingers flexing in Aziraphale’s grip. 

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted to be clear.” Aziraphale gives Crowley a sad smile, and the demon shakes his head. 

“I  _ do.  _ Aziraphale, you-” Crowley fumbles, sliding his hand out of Aziraphale's grip for just a moment, to pull his glasses off and discard them on the table before (and Aziraphale’s breath catches unnecessarily as he does) he takes Aziraphale’s hand properly and laces their fingers together. “Look into my eyes and tell me you can’t- feel it. You sense  _ love _ . You must see how I am around you.” Crowley says, serious and pleading, skin warm under Aziraphale’s touch. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says slowly, looking into his wide snake eyes. The problem is, while  _ yes, _ he does sense an aura of Love every time he’s around Crowley, he’s never pointed it out or really let himself acknowledge it because it’s  _ always _ been there, a steady hum in the back of his mind every time they’re together, and that thought and what it means scares him so much more than he cares to admit. And as for how the demon acts... he’s told himself for years, since Germany, since his stumbling over his words in Rome, even, not to get ahead of himself. That Crowley  _ could _ , however unlikely the possibility is, be playing some long game of temptation with him, one he keeps playing right into, despite himself. 

_ If that were the case, you would have fallen already, _ his brain tells him. Aziraphale shushes himself. 

“Crowley, we’ve been rather obtuse then, haven’t we?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley’s lips twitch into a small smile. 

“Beat around the bush for a bit, maybe.” He mumbles. His eyes flit for just a second around Aziraphale’s face.  _ To my lips, _ he thinks,  _ he wants to kiss me. _

“I’ve been-” 

“Dodging the question?” Crowley finishes for him. Aziraphale nods. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale says firmly, again. Crowley chuckles, leaning forward and pressing his forehead for Aziraphale’s, his eyes slipping closed. 

“I love you too.” 

 

The light bulb buzzes softly as the afternoon slips into evening, outside the bookshop with its blinds drawn. A wine bottle grudgingly refills itself, and a couch that had spaciously seated one for quite some time comfortably seats two. 


	2. Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heres the porn yall :D   
> *puts my trans lil hands all over aziraphale and crowley* my canon now  
> (aziraphale has a vagina in this, crowley has a dick, very little gendered language is used for both of their bits!)

“Mfh. Angel,” Crowley paws at Aziraphale’s chest, making a little room between the two of them. The angel blinks his eyes open, flushed red, lips full from kissing. Crowley’s sure he doesn’t look much better. The hands clutching the sides of his face are warm against his skin. 

“Hello,” Aziraphale chuckles, eyes bright. Crowley smiles. He’s practically in his lap, their legs entangled on the couch, Crowley’s jacket discarded and Aziraphale’s vest wrinkled from where Crowley has been clinging to it. The world outside the bookshop has darkened, their alcohol has been discarded in favor of- this. Crowley brushes his thumb along Aziraphale’s round cheek. 

“I love you.” He says. After no many years of  _ not _ saying it, the words bubble forward, threatening to spill over in a tidal wave. Aziraphale leans back in, kisses Crowley slow until he feels light-headed, like the angel is drinking the words from his lips. When he pulls back Crowley chases him, getting in one last peck before Aziraphale shifts under him. 

“I know. This is nice.” Aziraphale says, hands brushing down to rest lightly on Crowley’s chest. 

“Have you ever- kissed before?” Crowley asks, a curious twisting in his gut. Aziraphale shrugs. 

“I have, once or twice. Sometimes miracles called for a more- intimate touch.” 

Crowley squints. 

“Are you saying, Aziraphale, that you’ve  _ fucked _ to spread G- the Almighty’s grace?” Crowley asks. 

“Oh, don’t put it like that. And don’t look so surprised!” Aziraphale tuts, drawing himself up a bit. Crowley shakes his head.

“I thought- I would have thought that would have been out of your, erm, realm of expertise.” 

“It’s not lust if you’re doing it for the right reasons. I’m sure you’ve-” 

“Nope.” Crowley pops the word, fighting off the urge to blush or hide behind his glasses. Aziraphale studies him for a moment. 

“But, you’re a demon?” He says slowly. Crowley ducks his head and rests it on Aziraphale’s collar bone. 

“Never worth the effort.” He says. It’s an excuse because it’s not like he hasn’t  _ thought _ about it, but his desires have always been centered on one being, one, he’d assumed,  _ uninterested  _ being. 

“So you’ve never- hmm.” Aziraphale runs a hand through Crowley’s hair, and he can’t hide how he leans into the touch. “Would you want to?” He asks after a moment. Crowley leans back and looks up at Aziraphale. 

“I...” Crowley struggles for words. Aziraphale looks at him with a slightly bemused smile. 

“No pressure, if you’re not interested. I quite like just this kissing.” Aziraphale brushes his hand back over Crowley’s cheek. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, measuredly, “please,” 

“Hmm?” Aziraphale tilts his head. Crowley leans in and kisses him. His hands fist in the front of Aziraphale’s shirt, he shifts himself to be properly seated in the angel’s lap, pushing him back into the couch cushions and  _ kisses  _ him. Aziraphale hums again and drops his hands to rest lightly on Crowley’s waist. 

“Is that a yes?” Aziraphale asks quickly, breath on Crowley’s lips. Crowley huffs. 

“Yesss, angel.” He leans back in and kisses for all he’s worth. 

Crowley, as he’d said, has little experience in what he’s doing. He’s  _ been _ kissed, had people express attraction to him, he tries hard enough to look desirable, fit the job description, but he’s never reciprocated. He knows the technicalities of what to do, but he’s never  _ done _ them, with a human much less another otherworldly being. So he’s very happy when after a moment Aziraphale’s grip on his side steels itself, and the angel gently moves Crowley’s mouth open and takes initiative in their kiss. Crowley follows, letting Azriaphale steal his breath away (not that he needs it, but it’s the thought of it, really) before he breaks the kiss to gently trail kisses down Crowley’s jaw, Aziraphale sitting a little more upright and pulling Crowley closer in order to kiss along what’s exposed of his neck. Crowley lets his head drop to the side, the light brush of lips making his toes curl. Aziraphale leaves a hotter kiss where his pulse would be if he had the brain power to dedicate to getting it started, hard enough it might leave a mark. That thought sends a shock through Crowley, a pleasant one. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, at a loss for what to do. 

“We should probably do this upstairs,” Aziraphale says, but catches Crowley before he can move back to stand. There’s a sound of wings unfurling and Crowley has to cling to Aziraphale to catch himself, finding them standing in a small bedroom, what must be the upstairs of Aziraphale’s shop. He’s never had much cause to come up here, though it looks about like what he would expect. Full of books, a bed that, while made, looks unused. It’s dark,  but his eyes adjust just fine. Aziraphale tucks his winds behind himself, not disappearing them completely. Its rare Crowley gets to see them, clumsy as they are, especially indoors. He’s always filled with a desire to touch them, something deep-rooted in him. Aziraphale catches him staring and shifts. 

“I can- I just thought, since it’s just us,” Aziraphale's wings pull tight to his body. Crowley shakes his head, rolling his shoulders and unfurling his own. Aziraphale smiles. 

“Just us,” Crowley echoes, and then sighs as Aziraphale kisses him again, this time his wings coming to wrap around, feathers brushing against Crowley’s arms and wings. He shivers, whether from the kiss or the touch of angelic grace he isn’t sure, but it doesn’t hurt to he welcomes it, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck. 

They’re pressed flush together, Crowley is vaguely aware through the buzzing of his brain that he could very well choose to start having certain anatomy to direct that energy into, and the angel would certainly  _ feel  _ it. Aziraphale makes a noise into their kiss, tightening the grip he has in Crowley’s hair, and Crowley echoes it. It can’t hurt, he reckons, so he makes a lazy attempt at a snap. Aziraphale shifts against him, lips tugging into a smile that nearly breaks their kiss. He presses back against Crowley a bit, making him take a step backward, then another until his legs hit the bed. Crowley lets himself be guided into sitting, and then pressed back until his back rests on the soft blanket. Aziraphale kisses him the whole time, wings rustling against Crowley’s where they splay out behind him. 

“There you go,” Aziraphale hums, kneeling over Crowley. He shifts and rolls his hips experimentally against Crowley, exceedingly slow. Crowley whines, pressing back even as Aziraphale leans away. Crowley blinks, hands slipping from the angel’s chest to rest on his knees. Aziraphale rests himself on Crowley’s thighs and fiddles with the buttons of Crowley’s shirt. 

“May I take this off?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley nods, trying to breath slow to calm himself as Aziraphale methodically undoes the buttons. Crowley has to put his wings away and lean up for the shirt to come all the way off, but he steals a kiss as he does before flopping back down and spreading his wings out. Aziraphale rests his hands gently on Crowley’s chest. Crowley reaches up to Aziraphale’s own vest, poses a question without words. Aziraphale takes his hands and guides them to the buttons.

“You know, when we switched places, you told me to take care of this,” Aziraphale says, running his hands over Crowley’s shoulders. Crowley blushes. “I hope this suffices.” Aziraphale smiles. Crowley sticks out his tongue. 

Crowley is much worse at undressing Aziraphale, between the angle and the distraction way Aziraphale's wings keep brushing against his own, sending little shocks straight through him. Crowley fully whimpers at one, hips bucking slightly where they’re trapped under Aziraphale, and the angel finally takes pity on him. With his own snap, he disappears all their clothes, setting ( _ naked) _ with a smile back against Crowley, and leaning down to kiss him. Crowley scrambles for purchase, gripping Aziraphale’s shoulders and wrapping his wings around the angel, anything he can do to pull him close. This warmth is so unlike holy fire, honey in his limbs and a tight coiling between his legs, exacerbated by the skin to skin contact, and the  _ kissing _ . He doesn’t think he’ll be able to go a day without kissing Aziraphale from now on. He’d forgo every other vice, just to have this. Aziraphale brushes the corner of his lips and moves his attention to Crowley’s neck. 

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Aziraphale whispers into Crowley’s skin. 

“Ngk, please,” Crowley rolls his hips, dick hard and trapped between Aziraphale’s soft stomach and his own. Aziraphale chuckles press what must be another mark into Crowley’s neck, and shifts back against Crowley in retaliation, soft wet heat that has Crowley seeing sparks. Aziraphale kisses him against, lifting his hips a little, which has Crowley whining at the loss of contact, but it’s replaced by a warm hand brushing against him, taking him softly and stroking him. Crowley wriggles, the soft sheets catching his wings, and bucks shamelessly into Aziraphale’s hand. The angel just smiles down at him, twisting his hand slightly. Crowley is aware that he maybe could feel some embarrassment for how far gone he is already, but he can't find it in himself to do anything but cling to the angel, draw him back in to kiss until he's breathless and shaking. 

“Angel, I’m not going to last much longer,” Crowley says against Aziraphale's lips. Aziraphale’s hand tightens, and he shifts back a little on his knees, pressing one last kiss to Crowley’s lips before sitting upright. 

“May I?” Aziraphale gestures vaguely towards himself and the hand he has on Crowley. Crowley moans, the angel having not stopped his steady strokes. 

“Yes, anything,” Crowley says. Aziraphale nods and lifts himself up, guiding Crowley into himself effortlessly. Crowley whimpers and tosses his head back.

It takes him a moment to collect himself, Aziraphale sitting still above him, fingers of one hand stroking down Crowley’s chest, the other gently dipping to touch himself, ghosting near where they are joined to the hilt. Crowley nearly loses himself there. 

“Easy, it’s okay.” Aziraphale soothes, stroking between his soft looking curls, breath catching. Crowley is overwhelmed with the desire to touch, to help, and also paralyzed by the image before him, Aziraphale framed by stark white wings, naked, hair disheveled, face and chest flushed. Slowly he presses his hips up, range of motion limited but just  _ enough _ . Aziraphale makes a little pleased noise and grinds back against Crowley, which sends even more sparks through his skin, all gathering low in his stomach. Crowley grunts and repeats the motion. 

“That's it, Crowley, you’re perfect,” Aziraphale says, fingers moving faster against himself. Crowley does his best to set a pace, thrusting up into Aziraphale with his hands fisted in the blanket under them, legs tense with the effort. Aziraphale brings his wings forward to arch around them, grinding fully back against Crowley, making wonderful breathy noises that Crowley knows he will never forget. He whimpers and speeds up. 

“There you go, dear, it’s okay, let go,” Aziraphale hums, his own hips bucking out of time with Crowley now, and it’s just enough to topple him suddenly and fully over the edge. Crowley clings Aziraphale, bending him down, and lets his body shake until it’s spent. Aziraphale presses kisses to his neck and continue to roll his hips lazily against Crowley, hand moving between them. Crowley comes back to himself, feeling surrounded by Aziraphale in every way possible. He shifts out of him but keeps pressed closed. He works his own hand towards Aziraphale’s. 

“Let me?” He whispers voice cracked. Aziraphale huffs against Crowley's collar bone and lefts his hips a bit. Crowley gently seeks his target, drinking in Aziraphale’s noises until his slender fingers draw out a sharp whimper. He repeats the stroke, again and again until Aziraphale is shivering above him, mouthing words that might be celestial silently into his skin. Crowley grins, presses a kiss into Aziraphale’s hair, and draws him over the edge with a sweep of his fingers. Aziraphale comes with a shout, hips bucking and legs writhing before he grows still, banding warm breaths against Crowley’s skin. Crowley kisses the angels temple again. 

“Goodness, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, tugging Crowley’s hand out from between them and kissing his fingers. “Thank you.” He says. He looks at Crowley with something akin to reverence, which makes his stomach squirm strangely. Crowley smiles. 

“Wanted to do that for a while.” He says, leaning up to kiss Aziraphale. The angel kisses him back. 

“We have the rest of well, eternity,” Aziraphale says softly. “We’ll make up for the lost time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos/comments ! The rest of this series might not be in the same universe as these, but some of it might be ! I will note that in future notes :)

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: part 2 is nsfw!   
> Thanks for reading, please leave comments and kudos!


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